


Chin Up

by sinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst to Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My beautiful baby, kind of, teen!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinchester/pseuds/sinchester
Summary: "I remember missing all your calls and how they went round and aroundAnd that time you told me you loved me and couldn't feel more proud"Sam is insecure, and a nasty girl at school isn't making anything better. Dean isn't exactly helping, either.That is, until Sam storms into the bathroom in anger to sleep in the tub.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollylux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/gifts).



> Always, always, always for Geny.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, Violet! I know we discussed what to do with the ending but I went somewhere completely different with it... still, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Btw sorry it's cheesy af. That's just how I roll.
> 
> Please feed back!!! I might do a follow up to this if people like it.

Sam Winchester was 15, and naturally the most awkward boy in his class. He felt behind in so many ways; socially, in terms of puberty (all the other guys had seemed to actually fit into their skin), and most of all sexually. 

Well, he had kissed that girl, Hayley, back in Yellow Springs, Ohio last year, and it had felt to him like the most unsatisfactory, overrated experience of his life. There was too much plain tongue and too little craft in her kiss, and all Sam could do was jerk his head back as subtly as he possibly could without being rude and just take it. 

Sam would sit around the friendship group he had begrudgingly taken on for the duration of the latest 3 month 'big case', silent as they discussed how Felix had sucked James' dick, or how Alexa had fucked Tony, and how they were all just getting some... Sam felt outrageously left out, to say the least. One sloppy kiss (and not the good kind of sloppy) at the freshman Christmas dance was hardly something to brag about to his peers. What's more, his stereotypical sexually frustrated teenage self was naturally desperate to blindly rut against someone who wanted him. 

 

Of course, Dean had given him tips on making out. God, he had given the whole spiel, where and how to hold her, how to angle your head just right, how to stroke her tongue properly... Not that he had needed it yet. Plus, with the way Dean had described the perfect make-out situation, Sam found himself wanting to be in his big brother's arms more than he did a girl. Or a guy, or anyone in between. So, he blushed furiously and played with his hands and tried to calm his breathing the best he could when Dean would give him 'theory lessons', as he called them, but never suspected he would need put his brother's kindly tips to use any time soon.

That is, not until Florence asked him to go to some party with her.

Usually, although he wasn't instantly popular, he did have friends - and friends would invite him along to things for fun. Not that he wouldn't sneak away at the nearest opportunity most of the time. Still, though, it counted.

But this time, someone had asked him to go out with them, and it was that kind of request.

-

"Going out tomorrow night" Sam announced as him and Dean watched 'Back to the Future' over their slightly overcooked macaroni cheese on Thursday night. 

Dean grabbed the remote and turned the volume down (it wasn't like they hadn't seen the part at Lou's Café which leads to a chase a million times).

"Where you going, kiddo? Not like you to be out on a Friday night" Dean commented, curiousness overcoming his face.

"Um, just a party" Sam spoke a little quieter this time, trying his very best to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. Instead, he purely sounded a little nervous. To tell the truth, it wasn't exactly false advertising.

"A party? Like... like one of you and your friends' nerdy sleepovers or an actual house party?" Dean's eyes were already twinkling at the thought, and Sam sighed inwardly.

"A house party, Dean. It's not a big deal."

"'Not a big deal'? Sammy, you hate parties! You haven't even been to one since that after-party for the Christmas dance in Suckass, Ohi-"

"Well, it's different this time. Just... it's nothing, alright?" Sam shrugged in an attempt to end the conversation there.

"So, just to be clear -- no ulterior motives whatsoever? No one you wanna hook up with?" Dean waggled an eyebrow, Sam outwardly cringing in response.

"Well, uh... it's the first month of sophomore year and I kinda wanna do this sort of stuff if we're gonna be here a while, and..." the younger boy trailed off, not quite ready to admit to his real reasoning yet.

Unfortunately, Dean persisted. "Come on, kid, spit it out. I won't judge ya. If it's-"

"Fine! Fine, but just so you'll get off my back about it." Sam exhaled. "A girl asked me to go with her."

"To go with her, or like..." Dean lowered his voice. "To go with her?"

"The second one. Now, will you please knock it off?" Sam snapped, becoming increasingly irritated with Dean's pushy nature.

 

Dean no longer appeared to be listening. Rather, his eyes were out of focus and he was shaking his head, seemingly in disbelief. "Whoa, dude... my puny little brother getting a date." He paused, and turned to face his little brother. "Took you long enough, huh? Well, I'm not surprised, with that haircut" Dean teased, delivering Sam a light punch on the arm.

"Shut up" Sam forced a smile which probably looked more like a grimace.Puny little brother.

As Dean lectured and lectured about 'what you should do if she wants to take you to a bedroom', Sam zoned out. All he could focus on was how Dean had confessed he was surprised that anyone even wanted to take him out.

(I should just brush it off, really, Sam thought. Whatever. Doesn't mean anything. He was only joking right?)

If only he had the ability to believe his own internal monologues sometimes.

-

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Too cool to say goodbye to your good old brother, now?" 

Sam had really wanted to slip out unnoticed, if only to avoid Dean's relentless 'jokes' about how it was very unlikely for him to get a date.

Obviously he'd failed in that act.

Sam reluctantly turned to his brother, fiddling with one of the sleeves on his plaid shirt.

"Bye, Dean."

Bye, Sammy. If you ain't back by midnight I'm comin' to get you, alright?"

Sam nodded, allowing himself to go through the motions without complaining for a moment.

(He almost retorted that he was too old to be called 'Sammy' any more, but he didn't, because 1. they weren't conventional siblings in any other respect, so why should they be with pet names? and 2. whenever Dean called him that, Sam had enough jerking-off-in-the-shower material for at least a week. The thought of Dean calling Sam that while Sam was bouncing on his dick was something that Sam was certain would never happen, but still used as a means to entertain him in the bathroom every evening.)

"Alright. Atta boy."

Sam's cheeks flared up as he turned round to walk out of the door.

 

"You gotta give me all the details when you get back!" Dean shouted as Sam shut the door behind him.

Sam rolled his eyes, and went on his way.

-

As Sam made his way through the sickeningly quaint town, squinting at the torn-out piece of notepad paper that Florence had written the directions on in the dark, he tried to resist letting the special compartment of Dean angst in his brain from overflowing. As usual, this was with no success.

Dean hurt him all the time. He would pinch Sam's cheeks a little too hard while patronising him, or floor him with a little too much force during one of their many sparring matches... However, it was never on purpose. There was never something so casually cruel that Dean ever did to Sam as his constant remarks about how unattractive, dorky and overall unfit to date Sam was. Of course, Sam always flicked Dean's ear in annoyance or half-heartedly laughed it off, as Dean always managed to make it seem like it was all in jest, like it wasn't worth thinking twice about. Still, the thought that Dean, of all people, most likely considered him some ugly, undesirable mid-teenage boy sent a painful sting through his veins every day. Dean was effortlessly, idyllically beautiful. Always had been. And Sam was completely the opposite, in his mind.

 

Sam decided that he wasn't mad at Dean. He was furious at the state of himself - at his face, at his body...

Who could blame his older brother for simply telling the truth about Sam?

-

Sam was home by 10:30.

Dean had had plans to go out for a drink with a colleague from the mechanic's, but he cancelled to make sure Sam got home okay and that he could be there if he didn't. Naturally, he didn't tell Sam he had had plans in the first place, or Sam would have felt guilty. Besides, he could use a little time by himself. Right?

 

The older boy was breaking out a packet of cigarettes (he only smoked when he was stressed, but he was stressed - he almost wanted Sam to arrive home early, if only so Dean would know everything was alright) when Sam arrived through the door. The plaid shirt was obviously not a sufficient insulator for Sam's still-fragile body, and he was shivering slightly as he gingerly stepped in the door.

Sam looked so humiliated that Dean nearly went into panic, 'who do I beat up?' mode. It took him everything he had to remain calm and convince himself that Sam was a big boy now, and he didn't need Dean protecting him from everything.

"Why you home early, brother?" Dean inquired. "She coming back here?" He knew that the answer would be no, but he wanted to brighten up the situation and display his faith in Sam, no matter how much Sam would think it was displaced after he told his older brother why he was home so early.

 

"I don't wanna talk about it." Sam huffed, shrugging his bag off his shoulders and immediately making for the bedroom.

"Wait, Sammy. Just talk to me. You seem upset, man. What's going on?" Dean's brow furrowed in big-brother-concern, and he patted the space beside him on the sofa, encouraging Sam to sit down. "You know I'm an expert on women, after all" Dean added with a lame attempt at a chuckle, to lighten the mood.

"Oh, I know Dean. You don't have to tell me." Sam did the biggest eye roll Dean had ever witnessed. And he had witnessed a lot of eye rolls. I mean, it was Sam here (Dean tried not to feel hurt by Sam's comment, and reassured himself that it was just Sam's moody side talking). "And I'm not upset, I- I'm fine. I'm not a baby, Dean. It's cool. I'm just- I'm just gonna go take a shower then go to bed, 'kay? You can go out to a bar or some shit if you want."

Dean rose from his seat, now. "And leave my brother all alone like this when he's clearly not happy? No way, kiddo. Now, just tell me what's up. Whatever it is, I can help. Promise."

Sam stood, looking at Dean from across the room. Like, really looking at him. Just the thought of Sam confessing his fumble to his nothing-less-than-godly older brother made him feel slightly nauseous.

Yet, he found himself doing it anyway. With Dean, he couldn't help but blurt out whatever he was thinking; he couldn't keep anything from Dean for long (except when it was related to him getting fucked by his older brother). It was the way they worked. 

"Uh, I just- I went home because I was talking to Florence's friend Natasha, who was slightly drunk, and she told me that Florence only took me because- because she felt sorry for me and her friends made a bet that she wouldn't take me out." All of a sudden, the floor was the most fascinating thing Sam had ever seen. He refused to look up into his brother's eyes, or even in his general direction.

A pause.

"There. Happy now?"

"Dude," Dean began eloquently, "why would I be happy that someone fucked you over? I can't believe someone would do that, I-" 

"Oh, you can't believe it?" Sam near sneered. "You're the one who's always talking about how your 'lame, nerdy, scrawny, dorky little brother will never get a date.' Don't pretend to be surprised, Dean."

"Sam! Sam, I- why would you think I'd actually mean all those things? I don't understand, I" Dean was fully in panic mode at this point, but for a different reason - he'd evidently done something to hurt his little brother. The one thing he spent his whole life trying to avoid.

"No, Dean. You don't fucking understand, do you?" Sam was really getting worked up now, all flushed-face and balled-fists. "It's always been so easy for you. You're so- you and your fucking towering height and your angel face and your stupid hair and your fucking muscles and your voice and- everyone just wants you. It's not so simple when you look like I do." Sam bit back tears before continuing. "You don't get what it's like to be some lanky, skinny, ugly as fuck teenager, alright? So, yeah, you don't understand. I guess you were right, though. Knew this would happen and all." Sam finished, utterly resigned. It wasn't normal for him to have outbursts this candid, and he could feel that Dean recognised that, too.

Before Dean could even begin to respond, Sam was storming into their bedroom. Dean was stock still, eyes widened, mouth hanging open, when Sam returned seconds later, struggling with his small twin mattress, his duvet and his pillow. Sam turned to his brother for a moment.

"Sam, I- you know it's not- it's not like that, I-" Dean stuttered, cursing internally for being so terrible with words at the worst possible moment.

"Don't even lie to me, Dean. I'm just gonna go sleep in the bathroom tonight. See you in the morning."

 

Sam slammed the bathroom door behind him, and Dean just stood there.

Sam had done this a couple of times before. Refused to sleep in the bedroom. When he had been practically inconsolable and couldn't even stand to be in the same room as Dean (which is saying something, seeing as they'd lived out of each other's pockets for their entire lives). 

 

Dean, feeling the inevitable cliché of the moment, eventually remembered how to move and made his way to the outside of the bathroom door, leaning his back against it and sliding down until he was sitting, albeit uncomfortably, as close to Sam as he could get. 

Dean called out to Sam a few times in the next hour or so. No response. Dean could picture his baby brother, sleeping as heavily as he usually did, tears drying on his face, shivering and all alone with only the cold tiles of the room for company.

Dean stayed right where he was all night.

He barely got any sleep.

-

For Dean, the world always stopped turning for his brother. And, while Dean decided to skip work the next morning so he could make sure his little brother was okay (work on Saturdays always got Sam down anyway, because he wanted to spend the day with Dean), he did need the world to keep on spinning so he could take a much-needed piss. 

Pulling a paper clip out of one of Sam's homework files on the kitchenette table, Dean conquered the lock on the bathroom door in seconds. Once he had creaked the door open as quietly as he could, Dean tiptoed in, thick socks muffling the sound of his feet as he did so.

Just as Dean was facing the toilet and pulling his dick out, he heard Sam stir. 

"Dean?"

"Sam, fuck- Sam, just wait a sec, I-" Dean fumbled with his boxers and clumsily pulled them back up over his cock, shoving his jeans up with them.

 

When Dean turned round, now presentable, he saw Sam's blushing face and his heart shattered.

Sure, Sam was blushing pettily because he had just seen his big brother's dick. But that didn't mean Dean didn't see through it, see the purple blotches under Sam's eyes and the tiny cut on his lip where he'd obviously dug into it with a front tooth.

 

Dean swallowed thickly, sitting himself down on the edge of the bathtub. There was a long moment of silence. There was no hatred in that silence, no anger, no spite -- it was just, quiet.

"Sammy, I- a few months ago, close to when I... uh, when I dropped out just before graduation, we had to write about what we were most proud of in English." A pause. "At first I thought it was stupid. Normally, I hated those assignments where you have to go all sappy and talk about yourself. The teacher told me to really think. She asked me what I had brought to the world, what I had nurtured, what I had never given up on... and you know what?" Dean chuckled softly, smiling to himself and shaking his head. "When I realised what I was going to write about, I was actually excited to do it. Like, me, excited to do my homework."

Sam sniffed, and gazed up at his brother from below him, on that cold, harsh ceramic, like a lost doe who'd just found its mother.

"I couldn't think of anything when I was given the assignment. Sure, I was fixing cars, and going on hunts -- not that I could tell anyone the second part -- but I had no reason to feel pride toward that. But then, I thought... Sammy. I brought you up. I mean, I know you got all beautiful by yourself" Dean laughed once more, but it sounded more like a deep inhalation. "I know you became your own person, but I'd like to believe I helped you along the way, you know?" 

Dean gave a smile that made Sam want to burst into tears.

"I remember when I tried to help you learn to read. I- I hate reading, words never look like words to me and it's one of the hardest things I have to do, but I thought, hey- I want Sammy to read better than I do." 

Dean's eyes were glazing over. He was clearly somewhere else.

"You always did everything better than me. At first, I was annoyed at myself... I thought, why can't I do anything right when Sammy's just good at everything? But after a while, I made my peace with it- not just that, I was happy. I thought, yes, this is my Sammy, my little boy who I took care of since I was in kindergarten. My little boy who shines at everything."

Dean's eyes were red.

"So I wrote about you, Sammy. It was the best grade I'd ever gotten. But I didn't care. Because I was too busy being proud of you to be proud of myself."

Another pause. Longer, this time.

"And Sammy, you're- you're gorgeous. I'm jealous of your hair, you know... I always wanted it soft like yours, thick like yours. You definitely got that gene from your mama." A smile, less pained this time. "You've got such beautiful eyes, you know that? So big and- and comforting and- and your voice is so... God, I sound stupid. Your voice is so soothing. And your skin... even softer than your hair. Want your soft thighs, Sammy. Your baby pink cheeks. Want- I want everything you have. Sammy, what I'd give- so smart, so bright, so witty, so gorgeous- what I'd give to be you, Sammy. It worries me."

Dean finally turned back to Sam, and he was crying. Full on crying. Curled up sobbing and shaking as silently as anything. 

A rush of panic shot through Dean's veins. "Sam, little boy, please don't- please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you sad. Oh sweetheart, come here."

After nimbly climbing into the tub, the older brother pulled his baby close to him.

"'S'okay, little one, I've got you. Shhh, shhh, don't you cry now. 'S'alright." Dean reassured, gently pressing his lips to one spot on his face after the other, kissing the tears away tenderly.

They hadn't done anything like this for years. 

Sam grabbed at Dean wherever he could, closer, closer, never close enough. 

Dean breathed, chest heaving. He breathed and breathed. In, out, in, out. All the emotion was-- he wasn't used to it. Not all at once. Not like this.

"Sammy" Dean began softly, easing his brother's head away from the crook of his neck to face him properly. "Promise you won't be mad at what I'm gonna say."

Sam shook his head plainly. "Never mad, Dee. Not really."

Closing his eyes, Dean braced himself.

 

"Wanna kiss you. Can I?"

Sam nodded desperately, quickly, carelessly prompting a headache and suddenly unable to think straight.

Dean leaned forwards slowly, ever so slowly. He wanted Sam to be sure.

When he had closed the gap about halfway, he jolted in shock. Sam had grabbed his jaw on both sides with both hands and pressed his lips against Dean's.

Dean tasted sweet, so sweet, yet salty with his little brother's tears.

After a long minute of their mouths simply being pressed together in a haze of soft love and sharp desire, Sam pulled back, forehead still flush against Dean's.

"Um... can I go piss now?"

"Fine."

"... Don't look at my dick, I guess?"

"I know you want me to. Even if there's urine coming out of it."

"Gross, Sammy! Gross" Dean scrunched up his nose, moving to rise from his position enveloping his baby brother.

"Yeah, you tell yourself that" Sam muttered, the corners of his mouth turning up a little.

 

All he could really think about was the fact that his brother was proud of him.


End file.
